Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown
by Spylace
Summary: In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown**  
>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.**  
>Rating:<strong> T**  
>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd**  
>Notes:<strong> Written during English Writing class while our instructor was telling us how unnatural it was to start a sentence with a while. Well, I can see how college education is helpful in every way but leading normal, healthy, social lives.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Batman.**  
>Warnings: <strong>What I know about horse racing I gleaned from books such as Thoroughbred, Lord of Misrule and the Horse Whisperer. And pages upon pages of Wikipedia entries of which only a fraction had to do with actual horses. So if there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out and I will fix them. This fic is unbetaed. All grammar mistakes are mine too. Also, it contains animal abuse and some violence.

.

"Good turn out." Dick commented as he and Damien entered the barn. The crowd milled around the stabling area, spreading and receding like the tide. They saw several familiar faces and made small talk with Julie Madison who had come on the behalf of St. Cloud. She professed an interest in the Joker filly who had escaped the greedy clutches of the Arkham Stables up north. Dick had to quickly pull Damien away from where he had buried his nose in a program when another woman charged past, her massive bulk thrusting everyone else against the walls.

Damien quickly shrugged him off. "Tt. It would have been bigger if Kerr hadn't sold off his better stock to Arkham."

"I know." Dick said mildly disappointed. "I was hoping to see the Joker."

Damien cut him sharply with his too blue eyes, too young to be truly threatening.

"You know what father says about..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Joker is mad and Kerr was insane for keeping him but even Bruce can't deny that the horse could run."

"We have the Queen of Assassins." Damien said loftily, reminding the man of the world-famous, multimillion dollar racemare that his mother had gifted Bruce. Face crumpling into a scowl he added, "And Red Robin". Who was the latest of Batman's sons to take to the racing scene. The colt had started off his three-year-old campaign by capturing the Louisiana Derby. With luck, he would make it to the Triple Crown.

"Guess I miss seeing Nightwing run." The six-year-old had been sidelined the year before with a hairline fracture that led to his eventual retirement. The stallion's first crop of foals was due in a few months, adding to the already prestigious line of Batman.

"We're here."

Dick laughed and groaned, "Why didn't I bring Tim with me?"

"Because father needed him. And he thinks that you're irresponsible."

"Right, I get distracted by Roy that one time and he never lets me live it down." Dick sighed. "This is good experience for you too you know."

"Tt. I've seen better among my grandfather's culls."

"I bet." Dick mumbled as he read the name plaque. "Spoiler by Cluemaster out of Crystal. Pretty." He motioned for a groom to take her out. Seeing the filly in motion, Dick repeated appreciatively—"very pretty".

"Her bloodline is impeccable and devoid of the Joker's taint as per father's orders."

"Shame really." Dick replied, eyeing a pale grey filly being walked down the aisle. The two-year-old tossed her head nervously but was fluid in her movements, almost like ell of silk under the florescent lights. "Jester threw out some good colts."

"But the Joker was the best." Damien said grudgingly.

"You two done?" The groom interrupted, flicking the filly across the nose when she lipped his sleeves. "Because I've got places to be if you don't mind."

For the first time, Dick looked at the groom—_really_ looked at him, his mouth going dry when he saw curls of red hair peeking out from under the ugliest cap he had ever seen in his life. The man was young, younger than he was despite having a good four inches on him in height. He was wearing his shirt inside out, a white sock paired with blue, his appearance no worse for its hasty assembly but open like a loose invitation. He swallowed and Damien, perhaps seeing the danger of keeping Dick near a leggy redhead on two legs, elbowed him hard.

"I do mind." The young Wayne said imperiously, crossing his arms. "Where is Amygdala? He is not in your inventory. For that matter where are the other horses?"

"Looking for something?" The groom asked lightly before Dick could chastise the boy for his lack of manners.

"It is strange that Crazy Quilt is unlisted when her yearling is up for sale. If she had been sold, we would know about it."

Leaning close the groom asked, "You're Wayne's kid aren't you?"

"How did you...?"

He nodded to Dick and he felt something suspiciously close to warmth tickle his stomach. "Dick Grayson right?" The groom looked down again, "Do you really want to know kid?"

Crazy Quilt was a decent racehorse who had won several small stakes in the Deep South before being laid up with chipped knees. Despite her lines, none of her progeny did well at track until Joseph Kerr decided to breed her with a sprinter. Tally Man had come out of nowhere and gone down just as fast. But his record at Champagne Stakes had made an impact. Everyone was waiting for Crazy Quilt's yearling, a full brother to the ill-fated sprinter.

"Right then." The groom nodded as though he has seen something he liked in the boy. "Come with me."

"I thought you were busy." Damien snarked and Dick wanted to stick his head down a hole somewhere.

The groom passed him a grin "cute".

Damien punched him in the guts for a good measure.

.

Out one end of the barn was a dirt pasture where several horses were crowded in a temporary pen, soaking up the last of autumn sunlight. There were horses of various ages, horses Dick recognized immediately and thought they'd already been privately sold off. Amygdala, a top yearling purchased by Kerr the year before, was instantly recognizable with his blotchy snip and the big, burly frame.

Dick grabbed Damien, his footsteps suddenly heavy.

"Grayson, what...?"

"Welcome to the killing pen."

Several shady men stood around the fence, muttering to each other between quick flicks of cigarette ash that landed at their feet like snow. The horses snorted at the flickers of flames, almost habituated to the stiffness in their legs, other obvious hurts in forms of heavy scars. Dick felt Damien stiffen up beside him at the sight of sullen horses, all lean and hungry looking like the Mares of Diomedes. Even the big Amygdala seemed reduced, his head hung low as the mares kicked and bit at him for space.

"So it was true then." Damien said finally, his voice cool and aloof for a thirteen-year-old.

"You have no idea."

A man waved familiarly at the groom.

"Jay! Got buyers?"

"Working on it!" Turning back to them he explained, "When he got busted for abuse, Kerr went the whole way. He'd maimed eleven horses by the time police arrived; all of them were destroyed on the spot. These are the lucky survivors."

"Why them?" Horror retreated for a moment, overcome by curiosity at the animals, all relatively sound, scheduled to be destroyed.

Jay scowled, "Because the man is crazy that's why. This isn't about the money; this is about getting back at the world. If he can't have them, no one can."

Suddenly, a stallion raised his head and whinnied, leaning against the temporary barrier. Jay hurried over and the group of men made room as Dick and Damien approached close. "Who's this?" Dick asked, ignoring Damien's scandalized gripes about putting intact stallions with each other.

"This," Jay answered, allowing the bay to slurp at his fingers, "is Red Hood."

Dick's eyes widened.

The reason why Batman's bloodline was so coveted was because of its exclusivity. Bruce let very few be covered by his superhorse and never the ones that came from Joseph Kerr. But somehow, the Joker mare Haywood had slipped through the cracks and the entire racing community had held their breath waiting for its end result. That foal had been Red Hood, spurned by his dam at the moment of his birth and spurned later at the tracks because the colt had stubbornly refused to run.

But at that moment, all Dick could think about was Jay and his fingers tugging at the stallion's lips, smiling like a proud parent. "How much for him?" He blurted out and a hard pinch in his elbow later, he was facing Damien who looked like a cat dunked in water.

"Are you out of your mind Grayson?"

"It's the Red Hood."

"Tt." Damien sneered, a carbon copy of his mother. "Do not presume to think that you can..."

"It's one of Batman's babies!" He said exasperated, throwing up his hands. "If I don't buy him, they're going to ship him off to the slaughterhouse."

Damien said carefully, "There are others who'd claim him."

To which Dick responded, "Not if they know Joseph Kerr."

The boy held up a list, striking it with a quick snap.

"Drake gave us a list!"

Dick knew he'd won. He gave the boy an impish smile.

"And since when do you listen to Tim?"

.

**End notes:** In which Jason totally guilts a rich person into buying a horse. Don't do this at home kids. Unless you are Jason Todd. So how was it? Good? Bad? Delete immediately? So the next chapters should be less horsier, unless you guys like that kind of thing. Tell me what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown**  
>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.**  
>Rating:<strong> T**  
>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd**  
>Notes:<strong> At this rate, I might as well be teaching the damned class. Does anyone know if people really use all 12 tenses of English? Does English have 12 tenses? Now I'm getting paranoid. Thank you anonymous and Chaseha-Wing for the reviews.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Please refer to the last chapter.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Same as before.

.

Bruce was not pleased.

He had taken a rare break from his work, needled by Alfred and the clamor outside when a trailer pulled up beside the barn with Dick and Damien inside. The horses purchased from Joseph Kerr's racing stables all looked promising, the Cluemaster filly and the other two-year-old. Onyx was a surprise but she was a good addition to the breeding stock even if her talents did not pan out on the field. The fourth and the last to be unloaded was a young stallion, his coiling shape at the back of the trailer so familiar that it nearly took his breath away.

The bay fidgeted at the end of his lead rope, head held high and ears flickering back and forth like the pendulums on a grandfather clock. He eyed them all warily from his vantage point atop of the ramp, whirling around and feinting a kick at his groom when the girl slapped his flanks in an effort to get him moving. Stepping sideways to avoid the next blow, the stallion surged forward to rejoin his companions.

Barbara took a sharp breath and all hands nearby surreptitiously dropped what they were doing to stare at the big bay. The stallion's coat was dirty, a cloud of dust trailing his each step, rope burns all around his head and neck with his nose looking like someone had taken a two-by-four to it. Bruce regarded the mud-crusted hocks in quiet dismay, his distress visible to all who knew him and those that didn't as Barbara leaned away from him, an inch to the right.

Dick Grayson beamed.

"Isn't he great?"

Bruce rubbed his mouth. "Dick, what in the world..."

"It's Red Hood father. Batman-Haywood by Joker." Damien answered smoothly, running up to his side.

"I didn't think Kerr would keep him. Not after he lost the race thirty times in a row." Barbara admitted though her eyes roved lovingly over the stallion's arched neck and strong legs.

"Twenty-nine" Tim corrected her. "He didn't get to start in the last one."

"He's dangerous." Bruce said finally, his mouth drawn into a straight line. "Dick, are you sure…"

"He kind of reminds me of Batman." Dick replied, draping himself over the back of Barbara's wheelchair.

There were agreeing murmurs as she flicked him on the forehead.

Bruce scowled.

"Batman knew what was expected of him."

"So does the Hood, he's behaving now isn't he?"

"For how long?"

"Come on B, they're practically giving him away!"

"There is a reason for that. The Joker is bad news."

"But half of him is still Batman." Dick pointed out ruthlessly and grinned. "It'll be fine."

.

After the vet checked him over, they placed the horses in quarantine, acclimatizing them to their new surroundings. Red Hood however, they took around back. 'Jay' hadn't given them much time once the deal had been sealed and finalized, not even to hose him off. He had almost been frenetic in his movements, a man distracted, a man looking for things that were not there. The groom had put Dick in mind of an estranged friend who had turned to drugs when his daughter died of a hit-and-run. In the end, he hadn't been able to save Roy but he'd wanted to do _something_ for Jay.

There was a loud argument from behind him between Damien and Tim, not an uncommon occurrence since their first introduction but Dick had thought they had enough sense not to argue next to an untested stallion.

"Dick" Tim demanded, "Is it true that you were _coerced_ into buying Red Hood?"

"I heard he stripped for him at the auction." Barbara chirped.

"He did not!" Dick squawked indignantly. Or at least, he hoped he didn't. Hell of a thing to miss or to forget. "I just pointed out that he was wearing his shirt backwards."

She nodded understandingly. "He was a redhead."

"Ah"

Having nothing to say to that Dick grumbled, "No one gives me any respect around here."

"It's the redheads." Tim nodded unhelpfully.

"Me, Lori, Kori..."

"Melissa, Pam, Roy..."

"...and Alex, wait, never mind. He dyed his hair."

"Is there something you wanted?" Dick asked with dignity.

Taking pity on her ex-boyfriend, Babs changed the subject.

"Has Bruce decided on a name for the Queen's colt?"

"No," He stared at Red Hood who stared back, eyeing his fingers and the sponge clenched between them like a tasty carrot, or whatever close equivalent to be had at Ha-Hacienda stables. Fortunately, he didn't seem to overly mind Damien's tight grip on his lead rope. Dick was surprised considering the scarring across his face and neck. "I think he was hoping that one of us would say something so that he wouldn't have to name him."

"How about Lautner?"

"No way!"

"Owlman?" Tim suggested.

"Let's not." Dick said hastily, reminded of Batman's famous half-brother who broke down on the track and never got back up again.

"Caius"

"No"

"Twilight"

"Now you're just making fun of me."

Barbara gave him an impish smile. "Don't worry Dick." She cooed sweetly. "We won't tell your ginger-crush that you read Twilight. Just be sure to name the colt something with my name in it. "

"Not a chance." Damien said brutally, stroking Red Hood once down his face.

"Robin III maybe?"

"The hell Drake? I will not name the foal after a second-rate..."

"Second-rate?" Tim interjected furiously.

The boy spat out several sentences in Arabic that would have no doubt scoured their ears clean had they been able to understand it. But Barbara noticed that even through the shouts of boys clearly too stupid to live and Damien clenching and unclenching his fists as though he would like to punch Tim in the face, Red Hood stood by placidly as though it were an everyday occurrence. He even took the time to drain a bucket clean.

Dick caught her eye and winked.

.

"It's better than Lautner." Bruce conceded, looking at the list of names his gaggle of adoptive children had come up with.

"It never fails to amuse me that you recognize all the actors in Twilight."

Bruce gave him a pointed look.

Dick coughed.

"Right then, let us never speak about this again."

"Agreed."

.

"I have a thing for redheads." He informed the bay ruefully. The horse eyed him with wariness, then asserting that he was not a threat, whinnied to his three stablemates to make sure that they were all there. He stood quietly in his box and huffed, ears pointed in directions, waiting for the footsteps that wouldn't come.

.

Weeks later, Dick was ready to admit that he might have been overhasty in the purchase of a thousand-pound Joker stallion. Only Bruce's smug and dry expression prevented him from saying out loud but the truth was that Red Hood had become a right terror.

The problem was that Red Hood was smart—too smart. Jay the groom had only been a part of why he bought a horse that had come dead last in all twenty-nine starts of his career. In his maiden, he had balked at the gate, only breezing a furlong before abandoning the chase for the siren call of the green oval in the middle of the track. It had gradually progressed to starting at all and running backwards just to avoid the crop. And it was during those suicidal hurdles down the opposite end of the track that his true colors showed.

Red Hood was very much like Batman, more than Nightwing with his coal-black coloring or Red Robin and his dogged persistence. The stallion somehow _knew_ how far, how long he could run without colliding with another racehorse, he knew how to run through a pack without ever brushing up against another rider. The Red Hood didn't run because he was afraid. He ran because he could and somehow Dick had to convince the stubborn beast that running forward was an attractive prospect.

.

"He's a bully." Babs said frankly, even as he picked the carrot tops out of her hand. The carrots themselves he ignored. He did not like men ("Maybe he knows you're gay.", "Just what I need, a horse with a gaydar.") but children were fine, he had taken a chunk out of Tim's shoulder and nibbled at Damien's hair all in the same hour. He was a hit-and-miss with strangers but loved the mares and foals like they were a part of his band earning him unfriendly bites that added to his collection of scars. When he got loose in the paddocks the other day, he had nearly killed Red Robin, only Stephanie's timely intervention stopping him from slaughtering the bay colt.

Bruce had been furious, the resulting confrontation unpleasant.

"Maybe he doesn't like the racing scene." She shrugged. "Some horses are like that you know."

"Maybe" Dick answered, lost in thought. Barbara put a comforting hand on his knee.

"Hey, at least we know he's not crazy. Who knows, maybe he'll make pretty babies for us."

That would be the ideal, financially wise choice. Red Hood was of an age when most high-profile racehorses retired and were put to stud anyway. Even with his horrific performance on the track, his lineage would attract anyone who was willing to brave the Joker's blood. But there was a reason why nobody trusted him around redheads anymore and between Red Hood's bright bay coat and Barbara's plaited red hair, he figured he had an excuse.

"Babs, I need a favor."

.

"You're seriously abusing my position as the commissioner's daughter." Barbara griped as she shifted the books and the stacks of paper off her desk. She dismissed his offer at organization and hacked into the records of the staff of Ha-Hacienda stables. After scrolling up and down multiple times, she frowned, her lips drawn in a straight line. "Looks like he was never formally _hired_ by Kerr." She asked, "Are you sure you don't have anything more?"

"He has red hair and he's hot?" He answered helplessly and Barbara raised an eyebrow in an expressive 'oh I see where you're going with this' before turning around to face the screen. "How many redheads could there possibly be in Gotham?"

"Too bad the search engine doesn't provide 'has not slept with Dick Grayson' box." She replied, her tone dry. Leaning back against her chair, she waved him away. "Go on Boy Blunder, this will take a while."

.

Barbara missed being able to walk, to run, to be able to stand up and Oracle. But most of all, she missed having the height from which to throw her file down from. Tossing the stack of papers across the table while sitting down wasn't quite as impressive. "There were only five thousand redheads in the system but I narrowed it down." She announced, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Really?" He said in mild wonder, liberating the last bits of waffle from the twines of his fork. "I could have sworn I'd slept with everyone in Gotham. Got to step up my game I guess."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "I should have checked the police reports of Kerr's operation first. He was right there."

Dick felt the pancake in his mouth turn to ash.

Choking down water he asked, "Did he..."

"No and wipe your mouth." She handed him a Kleenex. "Jason Peter Todd reported animal abuse at Ha-Hacienda stables with written testimony and a roll of film. He also testified at court against Kerr."

"Wait, he's the one who blew the whistle?"

Barbara nodded. "If the rumors are true, Kerr's been looking for him."

Dick uncurled a hand from her lap and squeezed hard. Barbara had been one of the top three jockeys in the nation before an accident cost her the life of her mount and her legs. She had never forgiven Kerr, though there was no proof that he had staged the accident. The other rider involved was in the hospital, paraphyletic and unable to speak. An autopsy of his horse revealed that it had already been lame, prior to the race, and had been running on nothing but bute and the sheer will to live before crashing into Oracle's hindquarters and going down.

The news reporters had labeled it as another tragedy of a failing industry.

"Be careful Dick," she said, her eyes flashing. "Kerr is not sane."

.

**End notes:** So I lied. There are more horses in this chapter. And no Jason. I shall endeavor to fix that. Somehow. Hope everyone's enjoying it so far :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown**  
><strong>Summary:<strong>** In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.**  
><strong>Rating:<strong>** T**  
><strong>Pairing:<strong>** Dick Grayson/Jason Todd**  
><strong>Notes:<strong>** I'd like to pretend that I do other things in life than write about men and horses and broken families but alas, this semester's crop of professors-non-professors are all bat-shit insane. Then again, these professors are the reason why I write this. Thank you everyone for reviewing! The second reason why I write this :3**  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>** Wow, if I owned the Batman franchise, there would be a lot more Jason Todd/Red Hood action going on.**  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>**Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

.

"What happened to you?" He blurted out when Jason finally answered the door.

Jason scowled at him, unimpressed. "Nice to see you too Grayson, what do you want?"

Dick honestly did not know where to start.

Jason had the appearance of someone who had lost a lot of weight very fast, his skin paper-thin and bones, too many to count, protruding visibly. He wore dark circles like permanent bruises beneath his eyes, his left temple discolored in the shape of a blunt fist, hair shorn close to his skull. A stained wife-beater hung loosely around his frame, creased and sagging where only few weeks ago it would have fit taut and stretched threadbare across his chest. He looked exhausted; nothing like the kinetic, obstinate young groom he had met back at Joseph Kerr's racing stables. Jason, Dick observed distractedly, had yet to find his other blue sock.

And while he struggled to give voice to his thoughts, a stranger slithered up from behind Jason, curling a possessive arm around the young man's waist and groping his ass. "Heeeey Jay-Jay." He drawled, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. "He a new customer?" Dick twitched inwardly at the insinuation and the kohl-lined eyes inspecting him at all angles like he was a piece of meat on a loaded scale. The man grinned, half-hidden behind Jason's ear, his face closed off and utterly professional.

But before Dick could say anything at all, Jason drove an elbow into the other man's gut, shoving him off. "Ken" The redhead explained patiently, "You can keep your hand or you can keep your balls but you can't have both."

"Fine, fine." The man raised his hands, flipping them back and forth, shooting Dick an inscrutable smile. "He a copper?"

"No Ken." Jason rolled his eyes. "Go away. The grownups are trying to talk."

"Bitch" Ken smirked, flashing his pointed teeth. "Scream if you need help." He sauntered off, back into the dark recess of the apartment, scratching his neck as he went.

Dick glared.

"Grayson"

"Dick" He demanded, somewhat mortified at his childish reaction. "Call me Dick."

Jason gave him an odd look. "_Dick_" he pronounced, the roll of his tongue sending _something_ shooting down his spine.

He fidgeted. "Can I come in?"

"Do you want to?" Jason asked tonelessly. Behind him, Dick could see the clear outline of a still body, framed by the indeterminate burst of static from an antique TV set, clothes thrown everywhere and someone's thong used as a marker for the unidentifiable puddle of green on the floor. In contrast, the redhead was starting to look downright healthy and well-adjusted for someone living on the impounded buildings at the edge of the city.

Dick didn't want to go in and Jason wouldn't let him but he insisted, "I really, really need to talk to you."

"So talk."

"Out here?"

Obligingly, Jason leaned against the doorway, graceful despite the cast and the swaths of athletic tape around his ribs.

Dick coughed. "It's about the Red Hood."

The younger man's expression did not change. "Meet me at the café around the corner. Ten minutes." And he slammed the door in Dick's face.

.

"Hey, I didn't know what you liked." Dick greeted, a tray full of muffins, drinks, pastries and other confectioneries in front of him as Jason parked himself across the table with a grunt, a red hood hiding his face from the other patrons. He looked good, he looked better half-naked but his clothes hid a lot of the lost weight, the battered leather jacket snug around his shoulders like a well-worn shield.

"How'd you find me?"

"I have a friend." Jason pulled taut like a coiled spring, ready to leap to his feet and jump out the door. "Her father works with the police."

"Huh, figures you'd have your fingers in every pie."

"Oh I don't know about that." Jason hummed, biting into a cinnamon roll with predacious relish, something of a smile gracing his face for the first time.

Maybe this would be easier than he'd first thought.

"So what happened to you?" Dick asked, procuring a strawberry pastry for himself.

"I fell."

Dick had searched the entire city for five days, enduring Bruce's silent disapproval, before he had gotten wind of the young man hiding out in the slums between Gotham and Bludhaven. It was the farthest one could get from the racetracks without leaving the Gotham proper. From the way Jason held himself and his left arm, the yellowing bruises and the traces of staples across his temple, Dick obviously hadn't found him fast enough. His face crumpled tellingly and Jason ran a hand over his cropped hair, all pretense of reproof gone. "Aw geeze Dickie. Don't be like that. It wasn't your fault."

"We could have given you a ride." He pointed out helplessly. "Give you a head start and everything."

Jason shook his head. "Wouldn't have mattered. Not like I have anywhere to go to." He finished the cinnamon roll. "So what's new with the Hood?"

Grateful for the subject change, Dick frowned "He's being a brat."

"He won't start." Jason interpreted fluently.

"He can run but Tim can't get him to start out of the gate."

"Your first mistake, unless Tim is actually short for Timerella." Jason said, licking the sugary glaze off the corner of his mouth. "Hood doesn't like men. The only times he's ever finished a race was with Pam."

Red Hood's sixteenth race when his successive losses had pushed him into obscurity. Dick only knew the story because Steph liked underdogs as much as she loved deep-dish pizza. Red Hood had once again stood rock-still at the starting gate while the rest of the field went forward without him. Then, as though touched by an invisible force, he had begun to run, black legs churning up the dirt as he made the track record from start to finish. But it had not mattered because Red Hood still came in last behind the others.

"You could have said." Dick muttered, twirling a straw in his mouth.

"Thought you guys would put him out to stud." Jason dragged his cup of coffee close, raising an eyebrow at the cone of whipped cream piled on top. Shrugging, he cut through the sweet foam with a straw, sucking off the end. "'s more profitable too."

"Have you seen him with mares? He just stands there waiting to be adopted. Babs thought it was cute."

Jason gnawed thoughtfully at his pineapple bran muffin before furtively abandoning it off to the side. "So what do you need me for?"

"You know Red Hood the best."

Jason looked uncomfortable. "Look man, he's your horse."

"Jason, why did you show me the Red Hood?" When the younger man didn't answer Dick continued, "I'm not asking you to come and work for me, I'm just asking for help."

"Don't you have better things to do?" Jason asked exasperated. "Red Robin and the Derby ring a bell?"

Dick shrugged. "Figure it's the perfect time. Bruce and everyone else are busy with Rob; why not work with the Hood for a bit?"

"But you have been working with him, a lot." Jason pointed out, his tone dry as dust. "So you train the Hood up to... maybe a graded race and then what?"

"Batman raced till he was eleven. Lots of years left in the Hood."

"You don't know that."

Dick smiled. "You planning on proving me wrong?"

.

Their conversation flowed and shifted as most did, eventually circling back to the Triple Crown and its latest dropout Crime Doctor who had bowed out of the series early that morning. Jason groused "I bet money on that bitch", snagging a doughnut while Dick laughed, sipping on the last of his lukewarm coffee.

"My money's on Red Robin."

"You would." Jason accused. "Red Robin's lucky he doesn't have to face Crime Doctor or Prometheus. Hell, even Spoiler could run him on his ass."

Dick waved him off. "Prometheus doesn't have the stamina for it. He was fourth place in the Blue Grass remember?"

"Billings was an idiot." Jason replied in disgust. "What was he thinking, taking him to the front?"

"He did good on Humpty Dumpty though." There was an exaggerated groan at the name. "But seriously, what do you think of Red Robin's chances?"

"He lucked out in the name department?" Jason sucked his fingers off. "No serious contenders since Crime Doctor dropped out." His lips twitched as he picked at the rim of his paper cup, unraveling the flattened seams. "It might be a close call between him and the Electrocutioner. I noticed that Red gets bored near the end. 'S a problem with all of Batman's colts, but other than that." Jason shrugged noncommittally.

"Nightwing never gave us trouble." Dick said out loud.

"Color me surprised." Jason commented wryly. "Did he shit sparkles and rainbows too?"

"I wish" Dick sighed. "It might have made him more interesting." At the redhead's questioning look he elaborated, "Nightwing is like the most perfect horse that ever existed. Never gave us trouble, always did his best, tipped the waiters and everything."

"Wouldn't know."

"What, you've never had one?"

Jason gave him a look, his expression cold. "They're animals Dick."

Dick backtracked. "So what was the Joker like?"

"Crazy" Eventually, Jason gave up on defacing his cup and crumpled it in his fist. "He was great on the track. That's what, maybe two minutes out of every month, few weeks between racetracks? Then Kerr retired him to the breeding shed and it was a fucking nightmare. No one could get close; no one wanted to get close. Even the mares didn't want to do shit with him." Dick winced, visibly. "Maimed half the ones he got, scared the others so bad they miscarried but the owners didn't care, the breeders didn't, no one cared."

"Ah" There really was nothing to say to that.

Unexpectedly, Jason's face softened with a wistful air. "There was this one filly, chestnut with a blaze, pretty as you please until Joker cornered her and broke her legs." He suppressed a shiver and continued, "The colts he does have, they're good but they're wild and half of them are crazy. Arkham bought up most but there were still a few that they let go." Dick remembered the skittish grey filly, a bolt of silk under the artificial light. "They'll do well at track."

Cautiously, Dick ventured "Red Hood isn't bad."

"No" And he hadn't been mistaken, the half-proud smile of the owner, a trainer, or the orphaned stable boy who had nothing else left in the world. "But he's only quarter-Joker."

"And half-Batman." Dick murmured quietly to himself.

Chair legs scraped backwards as Jason stood up, lightly dusting the crumbs off his thighs. "Wait, you're going?"

"Thought we were done?"

His words remained stuck in his mouth; he knew pushing Jason now would only make him run. After draining five cups of coffee in so many hours, Dick was so jittery that he could barely stand. Throwing down a couple of crumpled bills, he gathered his jacket in one arm, tongue-tied and scrambling for a way to make Jason stay. He felt high and wired like right before a race when everything was so good and perfect that things could only go wrong. His breath fluttering, he leaned close and inquisitive like a question mark. Jason looking too much like Red Hood after Babs doused him with a hose that he said,

"Come home with me."

"What?"

_Oh shit_—Dick thought as Jason jumped away, looking horrified and fascinated all at the same time. Desperate, he coaxed, "Why don't you come to my place and see the Hood for a bit? I think he misses you."

Jason cleared his throat. "He's doing alright? Other than being a complete ass?"

"Like you won't believe."

A heartbeat and then "You'd tell me if something was the matter with him right?"

"I won't have to if you come with me."

"Okay." Jason repeated, "Okay."

.

**End Notes:** In which Red Hood becomes a device to guilt everyone into doing something they don't really want to. My god, dialogue. Nothing but dialogue here, hope it didn't bore everyone. Hope I kept everyone in character. But yay for Jason!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Exams are over, back to work. Thank you chapter 1-anon, Chaseha-Wing, and Somnium Mos for reviewing. Glad to hear that this universe hasn't gone too far off the map. Hope your wait was worth it, enjoy.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not yet?  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

.

Dick did not fret.

He wasn't a born worrier—that job belonged to Tim if he hadn't tripped over Damien before his fifth cup of coffee—and logically, he knew that nothing would go wrong with inviting Jason in the stables. He was allowed to have friends over sometimes right?

Even if the last one had accidentally set his bed on fire.

So Dick did not fret as they roared past the highway, dodging cars and cameras in the oncoming traffic.

"We can turn around."

"Huh?"

Jason didn't say a word. Instead, he let his eyes slide over Dick's bouncing knees and the death grip he had on the steering wheel. He made a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and embarrassed, Dick unraveled one hand and fiddled with the stereo.

In his possession, Jason had a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a wallet bursting with receipts and expired coupons, the clothes on his back—a thin wife-beater, a shirt that was once inside out, a red hoodie, a leather jacket, jeans cinched tight around his waist, ratty sneakers and a pair mismatched socks. He had nothing to tie him to Gotham, not even the thought of his missing socks and the pseudo-companions he found in Ken and the gaggle of roommates he used up faster than toilet paper. Nothing to claim other than bruises and nights of sleeping with one eye open.

Dick had done his time of being a penniless student, working minimum wage at the racetrack, juggling his college education and sloughing his way through manure. But the thought of Jason going back to the slums, maybe to starve, maybe answer the siren call of the track away from Gotham, squeezed his heart to the point of breakage. He never knew he could feel like that for a total stranger, someone he picked up partly because of guilt, partly because of the thousand-something pound stallion standing idle in the stables, the rest because of the red hair and the spark of something, like an eager colt led out to run, in the young man's eyes.

Bruce had washed his hands of Kerr's operation long ago and would not be happy to have his former groom on his property. But Dick felt better when Jason got in his car, scowling and alternatively sneering all the way. Common sense told him to stop, turn the car around because Red Hood could still be put to stud, even if he did credible impressions of little, orphaned Annie. He didn't need a man who lived in impounded buildings with junkies and criminals as friends.

Even if he had blown the whistle on Kerr.

The light turned yellow.

Jason flipped a bird at the driver behind them when they honked.

"First chance I get." Dick promised, the words sliding easily past his teeth. "I'm buying you a new pair of socks."

.

Like any creature with slaughterhouse-bound friends, Red Hood was always restless and vigilant. From what they could see from the security cameras installed around the barn, the bay stallion took frequent naps and toppled into the hay right before the morning workouts. Dick felt entirely too giddy as he pulled Jason into the stables, hand clamped tight around his wrist. He felt just like a little kid sneaking out for the first time. Jason repeatedly hissed at him to be quiet, complaining that he had seen jockeys behave better before a race.

Residents blinked sleepily from their stalls at their passing, Spoiler sweetly pressing a sloppy kiss across Jason's palms when he stopped to stroke her nose. Other horses barely batted an eye, too used to Dick's manic energy. Red Hood was near the back of the stables, last to be taken out, always first to be brought back in. He had empty stalls on each side, cutting him off from his neighbors because Bruce was paranoid and on Wayne Stables, paranoia was a justifiable condition.

Red Hood sneezed at their approach, raising his head from where he had been working at the padlock with his long tongue. He snorted, ears pricking curiously when he caught Jason's scent. Jason immediately reached over and greeted the stallion like an old friend, running his knuckles down the taut cheeks and blowing in one nostril. Red Hood squealed and ducked away like a young colt, tossing his head and backing off as though inviting them in.

"Hey you big idiot."

Dick bit his fist as not to let his grin show. Red Hood sniffed his former groom over thoroughly, unimpressed by the short hair. Snorting, he tore a mouthful of hay from the hay net and sprinkled it over his head. "You know better." Jason grumbled without heat, brushing the straws off his shoulder. "Alright, vacation's over, time to earn your keep."

Read Hood neighed in obvious disagreement, a stubborn set to his ears. Dick groaned inwardly, wondering if he should have waited until morning to reunite the duo. Scratch that—he knew he should have.

"Hush"

Surprisingly, Red Hood quieted down, the intelligent eyes almost adoring as Jason picked out the pineapple bran muffin from his pockets and stripped off the paper wrapping, laying it flat across his hand. The stallion nibbled at it delicately for a creature of his size, teeth grazing off the ballooned top, thoroughly enjoying his treat. Jason waited patiently as he finished, offering Dick a small smile as he sided up to him.

"And here, I thought we'd have to make a run for it."

Jason shrugged. "Hood wasn't much to look at when he was born, runty. His mom didn't think so either so I ended up raising him but he got big fast. I had to teach him something if I didn't want to be stepped on. So he knows a few words, big deal." The young man shifted on his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

"How few?"

"He stops when you tell him to." Jason smirked. "Didn't think it'd be that easy did you?"

"No," Dick admitted. "But you could teach him."

"'Go'?" Jason said skeptically. "Think he'd have learned that by now."

Dick scratched the back of his neck. "You could try um... 'run', 'giddy up'... 'vamoose'?"

"Vamoose?"

"Shut up." He laughed, punching the redhead in the shoulder. "I got nothing. Unless Hood knows a second language?"

"English is hard enough thanks." Jason answered dryly. "Teaching him new words is good and all but it won't work unless other people can use them." Shooting Dick a pointed look, he backed away, giving him and Red Hood space. The stallion looked at him in disinterest and bobbed his head up and down as though calling his groom back.

"What do I say?" Dick hissed through the corner of his mouth.

Jason looked as though he was trying hard not to laugh.

"Tell him 'down'"

Red Hood's ears flicked back and forth but otherwise, the four-year-old did not move.

Dick took a deep breath.

"Here's hoping I don't look like a complete idiot" Jason coughed in disagreement. "But, _down_."

Red Hood did not move.

Dick deflated, his shoulders slumping. It wasn't unexpected but it hurt a little that the horse he rescued wouldn't even give him a second look. Confused, Red Hood stared questioningly from Dick to Jason. Then he gave a visible sigh, his breath wafting lightly across his chin. In the dim light of the barn, it looked as though the stallion had suddenly disappeared. Dick suppressed the swift 'holy disappearing horses' and leaned over to see Red Hood laying down, supremely unmoved by Dick's disbelief—_yes I did what you wanted now what_?

"How... how do I get him to get back up—oh wow." He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. "This is amazing!"

"Don't get too used to it." Jason said disparagingly. "That's like... hey!"

"Thank you, thank you!" Dick hugged him enthusiastically, smothering him against his chest despite their difference in height. Jason twisted away with a curse, backed against an empty stall and wielding a stray bucket like a shield. Grinning, Dick went in for another ambush-hug, thwarted when the younger man avoided him almost effortlessly. Red Hood snorted, jealously trying to lure his former groom back. "We can do this. Holy horseshoes, we can do this."

.

"_No_"

"Absolutely not"

Dawn had come and gone, Jason's five o' clock shadow becoming a full-fledged beard. Dick pouted and grabbed at the pot of coffee only to have it spirited away by Barbara's timely intervention. He looked hopefully towards Jason who hoarded his mug like it was made of gold, a euphoric expression crossing his face every time he took a scalding sip.

"I thought you were just going to talk." Barbara accused in exasperation.

"He did talk." Jason mumbled, cracking his jaw, sounding more like himself at the transfusion of caffeine. "Then he asked me home."

"Don't go there." She warmed primly, her lips pinched in disapproval. "Therein lies ruination and loss of self-respect."

Dick's brain caught up with him. "Hey!"

Jason winkled mischievously, emptying his mug before the brunette could dive for it. "Nah, turns out Dick and I have a type—redheads."

Barbara burst out laughing, rewarding her fellow redhead with the coffee pot.

"You're alright. Barbara Gordon, I'm the one who saved you idiots from having the cops set on you."

"Jason," He held out his hand. "I'm a fan."

To her credit, Barbara only hesitated briefly. "I don't ride anymore."

"Doesn't mean I'm not."

She relaxed, an inch. "No offence Jason but we can't have you here." Before Dick could interrupt, she held up a hand and continued. "It isn't because of what you did at Ha-Hacienda Stables, partly it is, but I can't in good sense hire you."

Jason shrugged. "'S alright, no one said nothing about taking me on. Just came here to see the Hood, that's all."

Barbara glared at Dick as though it was somehow his fault.

He coughed. "Come on Babs, we really have something really, really important to show you."

"This isn't one of your hair-brained schemes at putting Tim back on Red Hood again is it?" She asked shrewdly. "Because he already told me no."

"Uh... about that."

.

Barbara's voice was authoritative and clear; Red Hood dropped like a rock.

"I feel unloved." Dick informed the horse dolefully.

"You knew what you were signing up for." Jason reminded him, sitting on top of the fence.

"This" Barbara informed them briskly, rolling her chair back. "Is something we can work with." Turning to Jason she demanded, "Got any other tricks?"

"'Come'? 'Stay', 'stop', 'up', 'hush', 'quiet', sometimes 'walk', 'eat'... 'suck'."

"'Suck'" Dick repeated, wrapping his mouth around the word and wondering if the sleepless nights were cascading on him catastrophically.

Clean thoughts chum, clean thoughts.

Jason slouched defensively. "He was a baby!"

"Word choices aside," Barbara interjected smoothly. "Can you teach him new commands?"

"I don't know. He's a horse." Jason muttered. "It's not like I'll have the time to find out."

"Hm" she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Wayne Stables can't officially hire you but I can. You'll be my assistant, fetch me coffee among other things."

Dick leapt down from his perch, nearly dancing with joy. He refrained from kissing her and instead knelt at her feet. "You mean it Babs?"

"Don't worry Boy Blunder." Barbara answered airily. "It's coming out from your allowance."

.

**End notes:** You know what sucks about plot!bunnies? They breed like bunnies :c I solemnly swear I will not write another fi—too late. -groans-


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> I'm back? Thank you Jubei-Kazuki for your kind encouragements.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not yet?  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

.

Sadly, with the Derby only a week away, Dick and Barbara had to fly down to join the rest of the family in keeping Tim from bolting to Cuba where extradition would prove to be tricky. The younger man was all but vibrating out of chairs, off the saddle and through the walls whenever Dick saw him, at least until Bruce took him aside and had him talk to Stephanie on the phone.

Red Robin won as projected despite the grueling pace set by the Executioner early on in the race. The colt was a foamy red, the color of clay after rain. He trembled as his neck was wreathed in roses, a kiss from Barbara and Tim sitting proudly on his back.

After all the photos, the interviews, and the excited questions from reporters who wanted to know what the future had in store for the son of the Bat, they went to a party where he received a call from Steph back at the stables. It surprised him because he would have thought that the blonde would call her boyfriend first. But expecting congratulations like the millions of texts he had been forwarded within the hour or gushing about Tim and Red Robin's performance on the field, Dick took the call with a bright "Hi Steph."

"Hey Dick."

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Waving off a server with champagne glasses perched on a tray, he stepped outside. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know why you called?" He joked, "I can give several reasons if you want?"

"Dick" Steph hissed, low and worried. "When are you guys getting back?"

"Wednesday. Why? Do you need me? I can be there tomorrow."

He heard a gusty sigh from the other end, crackling as it filtered through the receiver. "It's probably nothing." The blonde admitted reluctantly. There was a tapping noise which could have only been from nails drumming on the side of the table. "I'd just feel better if you guys were here."

"Did something happen?" Dick asked urgently. "Is it Jay?"

"Sorta, but Red Hood is doing so well right now and I..."

"How is he?"

"Jason has me exercise him every day." Steph answered, brightening noticeably over the phone. "It's so cool that he does what I tell him to do you know? I mean he won't break out of the gate for me either but when he runs, it's just, wow."

"That's good, good, very good." Dick said in stuttered relief.

"I know!" Stephanie squealed, high over the phone. "And by the way? Jason, total keeper."

"I thought you didn't like him."

"The other grooms don't like him; they're treating him like shit."

"What?!"

"Some of them are really mad at him for blowing the whistle on Kerr." Stephanie said softly.

"Why?"

"It's stupid. I mean some retards think that he's going to sell us out while others..." Her voice dropped several volumes. "Bruce hated Kerr's guts but he had good horses." Dick could literally see the blonde wince. "Right now it's just trash talk you know but I remember Roy and..."

"I'll be there first thing tomorrow." Dick promised her as he hastily made his way back to his suite, pushing past moving bodies and girls who wanted just one second with him _pretty please_? He backpedaled when he saw Lori lounging against the bar, her eyes smoky and lined in kohl. Her grey eyes became electrified when she noticed him discreetly trying to edge his way out of the room and she got up, wobbling on her spiked heels with her hand grasped firmly around a glass.

"Dick" Stephanie called in concern, her voice teeny.

"Hey no buts okay?" He said sincerely. "And thanks for telling me."

"Yeah well." Stephanie grumbled. "Jason doesn't seem like the type to hug it out."

"Totally. Got to go." He ducked behind Tim who had the misfortune of being snared by a socialite with an obviously fake tan, regaling him with tales about Batman's debut on the tracks which they had all seen taped a million times. The woman was flushed, the color visible through the bronze of her skin as she slid her fingers up and down the young jockey's arm. Tim kept shooting him pleading looks and being the good older brother that he was, Dick made him an offer that he couldn't possibly refuse. And with Tim glaring daggers at his back whilst on the path of Hurricane Lori, Dick exited unharassed out the building.

.

The stables were surprisingly quiet when he arrived early morning, everyone from Alfred to the newest groom taking time out of their busy day to greet him. The first thing Dick did was to look at the horses, already out on the pasture, Nightwing calling sweetly from the grass. Dick jogged up to the black stallion, ruefully admitting his lack of snacks or favored treats. Nightwing sighed in disappointment and sniffed at his clothes, nibbling at his pockets as though looking for something forgotten.

Steph came to his rescue with a half-bitten apple, gladly handing it over to the ex-racehorse when Dick turned to hug her, planting a sloppy kiss on her forehead. With a small squeak, she pushed him away, making a face as she smoothed down her plaited hair. "Tim called last night." She said primly. "Something about Lori Westen."

"Oh God, don't remind me."

"If only you hadn't slept with her." She said airily. "Jason's in the barn by the way. Red's being a brat."

"Isn't he always?"

Steph shooed him away saying that some people had to work for a living. Dick wandered off into Jason's general direction, collecting artillery and shields as he went. A bucket as his helmet and a handful of oats his grenade, Dick found Jason in front of Red Hood's stall, cursing miserably and flicking at the lead line as the stallion parked his ass firmly against the wall and refused to move. His ears rose slightly at his approach though his human counterpart didn't notice, too focused on getting him out of the barn before anyone else could accuse him of being lazy.

Dick, unable to help himself, set his bucket down on the ground and snuck behind the other man. As the swearing reached the apex of human lung capacity, he covered Jason's eyes and shouted "Guess who!" in his ears.

The redhead lead out an undignified yelp, his fists swinging in surprise. Dick dodged them easily though he was disappointed that Jason ended up tripping over his own feet and crashed onto the floor, Red Hood nickering contently from his corner.

"Fucking traitor." Jason hissed, "See if I let Steph feed you anything ever again."

"Not that he'd need it." Dick quipped. "Alfred mentioned that bread's been going missing."

"It's a lot healthier than the crap she gives him." Jason grumbled and squinted up at him. "When did you get back?"

"Just now."

Jason snorted disbelievingly. Staring at the bucket he asked, "You the cavalry?"

Dick smiled, as he took his hand, heat leaping from their palms when they touched. Jason's hand was cool, surprising for such a fiery individual. He'd always thought that the redhead would be like a furnace, kind of like Roy before he hooked up with Jade and had Lian. But Jason's hand quickly slithered out from his hands like sylph before he could put more thought into it. "Something like that."

Jason hummed as they quickly double teamed Red Hood and took him out to where Stephanie was waiting, all but bouncing on the soles of her feet. Giving her stern instructions on knowing when to push him, Jason asked her for a short breeze, the trio showing off to the stallion's real owner.

From the corner of his eyes, Dick thought Jason was shivering and turned around in concern, "Hey, you okay?"

"Nerves." Jason smirked. "Can't exactly smoke around here."

Casually, the other man asked, "Hey, you think you can give me a forward on my payment? I know Bab's is fixing my salary and everything but my mates called and well, they want my half of the rent." His lips twisted. "Now or else."

Dick replied "Of course" as Red Hood sprinted past them, his legs a blur against the clods of dirt. But even as Jason slowly relaxed, leaned up against the morning sun as though feeding off warmth, Dick couldn't shake off the feeling that the other man might have been lying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> School literally sucks the life out of me. On the other hand, it's the only place I can write until the ink literally runs out.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not yet?  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

><p><strong>delurks<strong> - It was destroyed in a massive conflagration that could be seen from outer space. Alternatively, I'm working on posting the work on my lj.

**Jubei-Kazuki** - Well Jason and danger go hand in hand, kind of like water and ramen. Okay, wrong analogy, thanks for the comment!

**Guest** - Can we never assume that Jason might be doing good? Like the off-chance that maybe he's donating money for the new hospital ring? Or he really needs to pay his rent? xD

* * *

><p>Dick didn't think he would have seen it unless he had been looking for it.<p>

Jason got to his feet, brushing the dust off his already frayed clothing. Throwing heated looks at the backs of the two grooms who bolted the moment he arrived on the scene, he swore at the giant footprint on the back of the paperwork.

Though he was technically Barbara's assistant, she needed him for the tasks she couldn't do by herself, things that required manual labor or working legs. Between running inventory and helping with the workouts, even with Tim and Damien's grudging help, they couldn't always keep an eye on him. Whenever he slipped between the cracks, like a sliver of light on the blade of grass, trouble abounded with minor scuffles breaking out in stalls and clearing up just as fast.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded, catching one elbow before Jason too could make his escape. In spite of the altercation with the remainder of the staff, Jason was a model employee. The advancement on his wages, according to Barbara, had been divided up into small piecemeal, settling whatever debts he had incurred since the shutdown of Ha-Hacienda stables.

But Dick couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was in the way that sometimes, Jason would throw a wary look over his shoulder as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. His general attitude said as much, arms crossed with an arrogant tilt to his head more in line with the lavish soirees Bruce forced him to attend.

The progress they had made with the Red Hood was nothing short of a miracle, but the stallion continued to turn his nose up at the gate as though it was beneath him to even entertain the idea of approaching the metal structure, the bells and whistles that pulled the doors open and closed. Dick had no doubt that he would have attacked the contraption if he could, stomp it until it lay in defeated bits and pieces beneath his hooves. The only saving grace seemed to be that the starting gates were too large for Red Hood to dismantle on by himself.

Maybe he was confused by it, maybe.

"Maybe if you stopped making such a fuss over it, he will too." Clucked Dr. Thompkins, shaking her head at the sight of Red Hood flattening his ears.

It hadn't worked. Either Hood was verging on psychic or no one could scrub the preternatural tension in their bones at his approach.

Red Hood never threw Stephanie off but he came close by jumping gallantly into the grassy oval in the middle to avoid being boxed in. Tim had thrown such a snit over it that the blonde refused to talk to him for the rest of the week. Even Damien complained that their resources were better managed on the Queen's colt rather than the washed up has-been of the Joker' stallion's career. Bruce had merely smiled in bitter satisfaction.

Dick didn't think anyone missed the sudden stiffness of Jason's spine, like a knot of nerve endings pulled too tight. The younger man continued to watch Red Hood's movements, the tells in his body language like any artist studying his subject before his work. He muttered profanities in one breath and encouragements in the other; it was simply how Jason worked.

"Nuthin" Jason shrugged, tugging at his collar and trying to get away.

Dick blocked him. "Didn't look like nothing to me."

"And you'd be an expert on that wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jason twisted his lips as though he had bitten down on something sour. "Forget about it."

He sighed in exasperation. "Why do you do that? You keep acting like we're out to get you when we're just trying to help you. Just tell us what you want."

Jason flushed in fury. "Hey, fuck you man, you think I wanted..."

But all attempts at having conversations or feelings immediately halted as Stephanie came around the corner, Red Hood stepping compliantly at her side. Jason softened as the stallion blew into his face, attempting to groom his shirt with his horsy teeth. "Looking good Red." He said appreciatively, Stephanie preened. "Isn't he?"

"How come you never take him out?" Dick asked as he stepped aside, allowing Stephanie and the Red Hood to continue.

Jason stared at him oddly, the earlier anger abated for the moment.

"I do." He drawled. "Every day in fact. At nights, I even take him back in."

"Hah, cute" Dick replied, "That's not what I mean."

"I'm sure it's positively gutting your teenage soul right now but I don't think our love is meant to be sweetheart."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't quite get the effect he was aiming for as his cheeks reddened. "I mean, why don't you ever exercise him yourself?"

"I think he might notice if his rider's weight increased by a factor of two."

"He's hardly a delicate flower." Dick pointed out. When no reply was forthcoming, he turned around to look at the other man, discovering him standing with his eyes closed, teeth clenched as though in pain. Alarmed, he grabbed boy elbows and pried the loose sheets from paper from his hands, sitting him against a conveniently placed bucket. "Jason?"

"I'm fine." The redhead croaked, color fading fast from his skin like water poured down the rain. "I just need to sit down for a bit."

"Oh shit," Dick swore, an obvious symptom of too many procedural dramas. "You're diabetic." He searched his pockets for a phone as Jason attempted to stand up again, batting away his attempts at help as though he was the Kraken and not a fellow human being. When he discovered that he had left the phone someplace, he would have to call it later to see if it was anywhere near being safe or if it went in the washing machine with his laundry, he asked "Can I get you anything? Water? Towel? Candy?"

"Candy?"

"You didn't tell me you were diabetic." He accused.

"I'm not." Jason replied, looking baffled.

Undeterred, Dick said "Then you should have told me that."

"I'm sorry, here, let me try again. My name is Jason Todd, I'm nineteen years old, blood type o-negative and I am not diabetic."

"Really"

"Water" Jason decided with a tone of finality, head shaking in loose disbelief. "You can get me a glass of water."

Dick couldn't run fast enough.

.

When he got back, Jason did seem better. He took the bottle reluctantly though he had been the one to ask for it and took a small sip before pouring the rest over the Hood's head once Stephanie came back around. The stallion bobbed his head agreeably, pressing close to Jason with heat wafting off his massive frame. Seeing the genuine joy reflected in the younger man's eyes, inlaid with threads of silver and green like lapis lazuli, Dick knew that Jason couldn't leave. He wouldn't let him.

As though sensing his thoughts, Jason met his eyes.

"Dick, I can't."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> *puts a hand across chest* I swear to god I'll get the next chapter up sooner. I just you know... need to graduate school sometime in my life.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not yet?  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Chaseha-Wing <strong>- Why did Dick ask Jason if he has (insert probable cause here)? Because he is excitable and is being silly. Also, health classes can be scary and warns you diabetic people have the tendency to look like corpses when their blood sugar is low. Or at least that's how I was taught :d

* * *

><p>Jason crossed his arms.<p>

"No"

Immediately, Dick scowled in response, marveling at how the force of their sheer stubbornness had met in the middle and brought the entire establishment to a standstill. Grooms crept about, as quiet as mice. They had no fear of Jason but he was pretty sure that even the Drakes, then vacationing in Haiti, had heard when he and Babs broke up.

"What if it's something serious? What if you had a brain aneurism?!"

"I didn't pass out, I just felt dizzy!"

"You were catatonic!"

Jason rolled his eyes. "Why thank you Dr. Dick, heaven knows that a medical degree from a box of cracker jacks..."

"I'm serious Jay! Look, if it's about the hospital bills..."

"It's not." The redhead snapped. "I'm fine; just leave it the fuck alone."

.

But the at the end of the day, between Dick's wheedling and Barbara's remarkable upper body strength, Jason admitted defeat and called a cab despite the former's multiple offers with his car. Dick followed in hot pursuit, just at the periphery of the younger man's vision, drumming his thumbs restlessly against the steering wheel as they traveled past downtown and eventually ended up at a rectangular patch of concrete of what had once been a bus stop.

Dick frowned before honking, receiving an irritated look as Jason gave up and poked his head through the passenger side.

"This is not the hospital." He pointed out, staring at the impounded buildings covered in colorful graffiti and tarp.

"Didn't say it was."

"Well this was fun." Dick said brightly. "Now why don't you hop in so that I _can_ get you to a hospital?"

"Don't need one." Jason replied promptly. "I know a guy."

He began to walk away and Dick cursed, making sure to lock his car and activate the alarm before stumbling out. "Hey—" he whined, the protest dying on his tongue as soon as something warm and heavy hit his face, smelling like sweat and spice and hay and the inevitable trace of horse manure all wrapped into one. Dick took a deeper breath, aware it was gay standing in the middle of the street nuzzling another guy's jacket. But it smelled good like Alfred's cookies and hard work. Jason stood a little ways away, raising an eyebrow.

"New cologne?" He offered weakly.

The young man shrugged before turning around. He expertly picked his way through the warren of empty doorways and bare windows, almost as though they were on a simple stroll through the park and the obstructions were merely tree branches or particularly ambitious ivy. Meanwhile, Dick eyed every building with trepidation lest he found a homicidal rapist standing behind a corner.

What the hell was he thinking?

"I'm sorry" Jason answered kindly. Apparently, he had said that last bit out loud. "I thought common sense would prevail and you'd have stopped following me by now. I was wrong."

Dick grumbled and almost missed the girl leaning provocatively against one wall, her midriff exposed and jeans so short they weren't even there. He stared, he couldn't help himself and she raised a coy eyebrow in challenge, uncannily like Jason that she could have been his twin. The girl sauntered forward with the confidence of someone who was used to being admired but not touched; staying well out of range should he decide to move.

"Jay" She drawled pleasantly, ignoring Dick's very existence. "Who's the pig?"

Dick frowned.

"He's with me."

At once, her expression stretched into a leer.

"One of those then?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "Something like that. We doin' business or what?"

The girl puckered her lips, thumb dragging across the seam of her belt as they conveyed what her sharp tongue refused to say out loud in front of him. Dick twitched, shuffling his feet awkwardly at the scene of what he now realized was a highly illicit transaction of cash and barbed insults. Giving them both a dubious glance, the girl snorted, "alright, alright", and hugged Jason, quick with one arm and a peck on his cheek before she pulled away. "Just warn me next time."

Jason gave Dick a sideways glance.

"No problem."

"Take care of yourself Jay."

"Always do."

.

"What the hell was that all about?" Dick asked as they got in the car.

"Oh now you're talking."

"I was trying to find a way that didn't accuse you of doing drugs... or prostitutes." He said delicately.

Jason snorted. "Oh man, Duela? She's too good for someone like us."

"I'll have you know I treat ladies with respect and dignity."

"That's not how I hear everyone else tell it."

Jason stuck his arm out the window, letting his fingers play with the wind. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face, as though he had gotten what he had wanted from the brief encounter, even with Dick at his heels. Dick narrowed his eyes in suspicion, trying to see if there was something about the redhead that had changed. Maybe Duela stuck whatever it was in his back pockets?

"They have a theory."

"Hm?"

"They have a theory." Dick griped. "They have a theory that I have an obsession with redheads."

"Do they?" Jason eyed him askance. "I mean between Babs and Red... Lori, Melissa, Pam... and Kori? You lucky dog you."

"Oh fuck me." Dick groaned and Jason cackled all the way back to the stables. But at least he had his jacket.

.

"I'm worried about him."

Red Hood chewed placidly near the fence post, a tongue wrapping lovingly around a stray dandelion. Plucking the yellow blossom with his lips, he did a little victory dance with the glee of a hyperactive three-year-old on caffeine.

Dick laughed and bit back a smile because it looked ridiculous coming from a thousand-odd-pound animal. Yet, it was amazing in a sense that no movement was wasted as the stallion kicked his feet, his neck arched and the proud gait measured as he paced the length of the fence. "Wish you were that confident inside a gate."

Red Hood snorted, his ears flickering at Dick's words.

"The vet checked you over" He continued conversationally. "So we know there's nothing wrong with you. From what Jason's told me, it's purely psychological. Bad memories?"

"Flirting with the other _man_ I see, Dick you slut."

Dick nearly fell off his seat. As it was, he pinwheeled his arms in an effort to keep himself from eating dirt. Red Hood dropped his dandelion in surprise but he had the distinct impression that both the horse and the blonde were laughing at him.

"I'm cutting your pay." He snapped.

"Bring it." Stephanie countered, raising her fists.

"Seriously," He whined, "no one gives me any respect anymore."

She shrugged, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the top bar. "Oh you know, when you spend most of your time stalking someone like a creep..."

"I do not!"

"Of course not." Stephanie agreed serenely, taking out a vegetarian buffet from her pockets as an offering to the young stallion. Red Hood stared at her imperiously, the dandelion forgotten by his hoof. "You're a lovely boy." She tempted. "Yes you are."

The stallion wiggled his lips in agreement before taking his pick of the spoils.

"If only there was a way to get rid of gates altogether." Dick murmured.

"How?"

"Blinkers?"

"Blinders you mean. He'd still be able to see. If only you weren't such a fraidy-cat..." Stephanie sighed, once her palms had been licked clean. "Jason said no."

"He said no." He said glumly.

"Why?"

"Hell if I know, you'd think he'd jump at the chance."

"Maybe Red does only take female riders."

"He wouldn't hurt Jason."

Red Hood whuffed, raising his head and staring into the distance at something only he knew. Dick wondered if horses dreamed, thought about running in circles for one elusive title after another. He wondered if the stallion cared or even could. The Preakness was next, reporters calling in at odd hours hedging Red Robin's odds at a winning streak. This was possibly the last thing Dick needed.

"Hey Steph"

"Yeah?"

"I..." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I need a favor."

Stephanie frowned.

.

As soon as he saw him, Tim said flat out "You're crazy." The young man stood a healthy distance away, staring at him in a manner normally reserved for the very stupid and deserving no less than a life sentence at the nearest loony bin. Dick couldn't bring himself to disagree. He felt giddy as he drank in the sunlight.

"This is such a bad idea." The young jockey's hand grasped his smartphone like a lifeline, as though he could somehow send an SOS before the Joker stallion took a chunk out of Dick's face. Unfortunately, Alfred was probably still busy trying to get Bruce out of bed. Bruce might have turned his parent's legacy into a working if not thriving operation but he never forgot the habits of a billionaire playboy and gave up one he conscripted several impressionable young minds into doing it for him. "You know Red Hood only likes women right?"

"Obviously not since he rejected you." Damien replied scornfully as though it was somehow Tim's fault for his lack of adequate plumbing. Stephanie slapped him on the back of his head.

"Hey you... be nice."

"Where the hell is Todd? He can stop this right?"

"Dick... are you sure?" Stephanie's forehead creased in concern. "I can take him, you know I can."

"Yep" Dick answered brightly as he sat in the saddle. Red Hood tossed his head, discomfited by the shift in routine. "But I'm fresh out of ideas and this is the only thing I can think of."

"Putting yourself in a full-body cast?" Tim dragged out. "Dick, when Bruce finds out about this…"

Dick pressed a finger to his lips.

"He will never know."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> It's winter, it's cold and there are birds attacking me when I go out. Common sense says they want food (because old people really like feeding them for some reason) but it's kind of creepy and a little scary when one lands in your _face_. As always, thank you for the reviews!  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not ever  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine.

.

"That hurt." Dick offered when he woke up.

Jason's face crumpled from where he'd been sneaking a cigarette beside an open window. "You fucking idiot."

.

Dick sustained a concussion and a broken pinky for his stunt. The short green mile to the gate had been simple, almost pleasant. Red Hood was like a well-oiled machine, rock-solid in his paces despite his temperament, filled with a sense of purpose that had him eagerly striding forward even as the gates opened to lock him it. It reminded him of the last time he had been on a horse (too long) and that he didn't give Nightwing nearly enough attention.

But he felt the shift in gears as soon as Red Hood pulled up close. It started with a light quiver in his neck, veins standing out as the bay's ears went flat across the top of his head. When Dick gave him a small squeeze with his knees, Red Hood snorted and stepped backwards with great restraint, his legs bunching and coiling together restlessly as though attempting to make a jump.

Stephanie read the signs—of course she did, he must have been the only one who didn't as Barbara and Jason came up to the fence, wide eyed with identical warnings molding their mouths. The gates sprung open in hopes that Red Hood would charge through instead of really charging through, the bars and all. Stephanie would have let him go at this point, any sane person would have, turned him around to reassure the animal she wouldn't force him to do what he obviously didn't want to do. But Dick spurred him on, so sure that he had control over something that weighed about ten times more than he did.

They had severely underestimated the stallion. He had underestimated Red Hood.

Red Hood reared up, forelegs cutting through the air.

Dick barely managed to throw himself clear when he came crashing down.

.

After, it took Jason over an hour to coax the stallion from the track where he'd been running alone, running laps after laps, in all directions and working up a lather, sheepish but unrepentant, completely muddying up morning exercise.

Bruce had been furious. But apparently not too furious that he wouldn't smolder in the corner of his room, radiating disapproval. Dick wilted. Red Robin had to be on top of his game for the Preakness. Batman and Nightwing had collected the Derby and the Belmont respectfully but Red Robin was the first contender of the line to go for all three. Dick was not helping by training a throwback.

Visitors came and went, each in varying degrees of exasperation, worry and concern.

"You are clearly too stupid to live." Babs concluded as she stuck an apple in his mouth. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry; I should have stopped you somehow."—Tim, after figuring out that he had gotten off with little more than a hard knock to his head.

"The beast is a menace." Damien said dispassionately, voicing what the others had been so hesitant to say out loud.

Jason looked like he had some more words for him too but had skedaddled as soon as he'd seen the nurse, a gimlet-eyed matron with tightly packed yellow curls under a woolen cap. She frowned at his retreating figure, her lips puckered with indecision before stabbing his eye with a penlight.

She recommended rest, nothing mentally stimulating and everyone smirked at him hereafter. Patting his elbow, she told him he could take off the splint after five weeks.

.

You'd think, Dick thought, his would-be murderer would have the grace to show remorse at his appearance but Red Hood simply looked aloof as though proud at having made an attempt on his life. The stallion stood near the edge of the paddock where Jason was slowly approaching, forehead creased as though thinking hard about something.

"Don't hurt yourself!" Dick waved with his bound hand, a little giddy from medication. He'd been grounded which was fine with him. Until the Preakness, it was just him and Jason on the farm—and several grooms, exercise riders, Alfred until he somehow managed to convince the aging butler that he would not suddenly drop dead for the want of care but there would be no interferences. Not for this.

Jason glared hard at him and muttered something that was anything but flattering.

Red Hood rumbled happily as he regarded his former groom. Ignoring Dick and the bright pink splint around his right hand, the bay nuzzled the shock of red hair, making it stick up more than it was.

Jason's hair had grown a little from the buzz cut it had once been, maybe a fingerwidth from the scalp, making him look younger and a little dangerous in a way young animals were when backed into a corner, drawing time until their parents launched a rescue.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" He asked pointedly, giving Red Hood a fond pat before turning him away. The stallion stomped in protest but went when he saw or heard something interesting a few feet away. A grasshopper maybe.

"I broke a finger, and I have a concussion. What if I never wake up?"

Jason snorted. "You know that's a myth right? It'd serve you right too, humanity doesn't deserve you."

"Liar. I know you love me."

"Like a yeast infection." Jason replied unkindly. He looked peaked, like Dick's tumble had shaved a few good years off his life. He would have felt bad about that and honestly he did but he couldn't quite make himself care at this moment. Dick was angry but it didn't show. He felt calmer than he had in ages, before Red Hood and Jason, before his streak of redheads that ended in tears and broken hearts and an almost marriage.

"I feel unloved." He opined. Jason whirled around.

"What the fuck were you thinking?! No—what weren't you thinking?! I told you he didn't take well to men like he did women. I told you he was dangerous!"

"He's not." Dick countered with a measure of certainty borne from an experiment that could have easily gone disastrous for him. At that moment, Dick could have done anything, ordered Jason off the land, sold Red Hood whoever wanted him, destroyed him and nobody would have batted an eye. Hell, Bruce might have even patted him on his back for the exercise of common sense. But he also felt about ten inches tall, the anger quickly supplanted by sadness and fatigue.

"What."

"He's not dangerous. He never was." When it looked as though Jason was about to question his sanity, Dick quickly added, "I mean he is but no more than any other temperamental four-year-old, not in the way you've made it out to be. He's terrible but all Joker colts are. Frankly, I'm surprised that he adjusted as well as he did here in the first place. He's only ever gone after Red Robin and they shouldn't have been near each other in the first place."

Color drained from Jason's face.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"He's not wild; he's not traumatized or afraid." Dick said dryly, holding up fingers. "I know Jason, I was on him. He didn't care that it wasn't Steph, not until the gates and it wasn't that he couldn't but he wouldn't. That kind of behavior isn't instinctual, it's trained, practiced, learned." When no words were forthcoming he asked, "Wanna explain to me why?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Carry a Bow and a Victor's Crown  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which horses and stables become a metaphor of sorts of the bat-family. Or, Batman with horses and Dick and Jason too.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dick Grayson/Jason Todd  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Sorry about the late update!

**Disclaimer:** Not ever  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Unbetaed and taking gross liberties with the horse racing industry. All mistakes are mine. Also, for this chapter, character under the influence of drugs :3

.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

.

He hit Jason.

It wasn't the smartest decision he had ever made but no one had ever accused him of being the brightest light bulb in a box and at the time, he felt justified.

He liked Jason. He really did. But they'd toed the line, crossed it somewhere and forgot to look back.

Dick now had a broken arm, an unsellable horse and a young man in front of him wiping blood on his dirty sleeves. Jason narrowed his eyes and braced himself as though preparing for another blow.

"You lied to me."

"Bullshit." Jason snapped, backing away. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you dragged me here."

The words struck a chord within him, lighting a fire that boiled away the last of his reservations. Double dose of Laroxyl be damned, he would be feeling it the next morning.

"Are you crazy?!" He shoved Jason against the post. Red Hood whirled away, putting distance between himself and the two arguing men. Jason stood cornered, a visible clench to his jaws and not a whit of apology forthcoming. "You could have killed someone! I could have died!"

"I had it under control!"

"Oh yeah? Then what if it was Tim this time? What if if had been Steph?" Furious, Dick held up his injured hand and tapped his temple. At last a crack showed in the younger man's façade. He looked stricken.

"You weren't supposed to try."

.

Dick didn't grow up around horses though sometimes he was envious of those that did. His parents had been accountants, perfectly normal, boring. Maybe it was the mind-numbing normalcy that drove him to the tracks where the world seemed alive. By the time he saw Batman on TV, he was hooked. After Bruce Wayne and Nightwing, he never looked back.

The stallion looked mildly disappointed at his lack of gifts, letting out a soft sigh that could be felt to the marrow of his bones. He'd always been like that, well-mannered, well-bred, always a gentlemen and currently the leading sire in North America.

He was the best horse anyone could have asked for but his journey in becoming the best hadn't always been champagne and roses. Contrary to the calm and sleepy-eyed snort that grazed his cheeks, as a colt, the stallion had been a sheer nightmare.

Coal black with a snip and two white socks on his back legs, Nightwing's level of energy and excitability had nearly led him to the auction block before Bruce relented. And even then, he had been unmanageable. Just as bad as Red Hood but worse because Nightwing had been so eager to please.

Dick had always been a sucker for rags-to-riches stories. Red Hood and his groom had seemed like a perfect candidate. "This is your fault." Dick mumbled, rubbing circles into the horse's neck with the four functioning fingers on his right hand. "If you hadn't been so good..."

After, Dick asked Jason to leave. Unsurprised, the younger man had acquiesced without much fuss, shrugging his shoulders and saying he always knew it was a temporary gig. He had gone in the hour, disappeared like a rogue fragment of his imagination. Nothing had stirred in his passing, not a blade of grass nor a pebble or gravel.

Dick of course, offered to give him a ride but Jason had stared at him, eyes shrewd and verdant green.

"You should get some sleep, you look tired."

.

"Officially, Hood's yours. There's no question about that."

"And unofficially?"

"Well you did pick him out of the killing pen."

.

"So he's gone."

"He's gone." Dick confirmed with a sigh, picking at the eggs in front of him until the yolk popped and oozed messily all over his plate. Stephanie saluted him with coffee, "that's disgusting" and promptly pushed the sugar bowl to her right where Tim sat befuddled, groping at the utensils until the blonde kindly put them in his fingers.

"Where's little D?" He asked looking around, hoping for a subject change.

"Hmm, school." Barbara answered, smoothing out the creases in her morning paper. "The trials of minors everywhere."

"Must you read that at the table?" Bruce grumbled as he snagged a toast and more coffee on his way to the door. Alfred stood behind him holding his jacket and a mirror. The aging butler looked disapproving at the paltry meal and Bruce flashed him an apologetic grin.

"So Kerr gets away with a slap on his wrist, surprise, surprise." She muttered folding the paper in her lap.

Steph made a sympathetic noise.

"You okay Dick?"

"Huh? Yeah"

His eggs were now drowning in syrup.

"I still don't get why he left."

Babs shook her head.

"Don't ask me, I got his resignation this morning."

"Is it because you got hurt? That was your fault." Stephanie said matter-of-fact.

If only she knew—he thought as he finished off his eggs with a squirt of ketchup.

"Well he's not coming back."

The blonde looked disappointed.

"Not even for angry sex?"

This startled a laugh from him.

"No, especially not for that."

.

"Why is it so important that Red Hood doesn't race?"

Jason twitched as though itching for a cigarette. His fingers drummed restlessly against the wooden post, nails cut short, palms calloused, wrists strong and wiry.

"It's stupid." He muttered, every other word punched out from between his teeth. "I figured if the Hood doesn't run, he's worthless to Kerr. It doesn't matter that he looks good. There are better colts from better mares."

"Then you blew the whistle on him."

"I _had_ to." Jason said, his eyes manic. "Bird-boy, you don't know shit. You really got to ask? But now the problem is, Hood is the one that got away."

.

"You're really going to go through with this."

"You're saying you won't?"

Barbara let out a small huff and crossed her arms.

"Anything to make Kerr's life a little more unpleasant. But Dick," she stressed, her mouth falling into a concerned grimace. "Are you sure?"

He flashed her a grin.

"It's do or die Babs."

"Because you haven't experienced that particular excitement in the past week."

.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why should I tell you? I don't know you."

That was fair. Dick changed tactics.

"Why didn't you take him?"

"Where? I had no friends, no money, I was being hunted down by Kerr's goons before you came along and sometimes I think I see 'em hanging around. Fuck—" He ground the heel of his palms into one eye. "I know I do. The grooms know you know, they think I'm bad luck."

"You are the worst." Dick agreed easily.

"I'm hurt." Jason smirked. "And I thought the past few weeks meant something to you."

.

Red Hood hung his head sulkily as he was tacked up. Stephanie was crooning as she brushed the straw out of his mane, telling him what a perfect, pretty, little gentleman he was as the stallion obligingly stepped in time to her ministrations. Holding the bridle in his right hand, Dick ran his fingers over the patches of smooth and scarred chestnut hide at his neck, fingers lingering over the spot of sunlight that lit up a coppery red like Jason's hair.

His hand fell back at his side. Red Robin was preparing for the Preakness and he was still here why? And for what? To redeem himself somehow? To prove that his investment of paltry ten grand was worth the ornery Batman colt?

Perceptive as always, Damian elbowed him in the gut.

Dick let out a pained whine.

"Grayson." The dark-haired scion of the Wayne stables commanded. "Focus if you do not wish to die today."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Dick grumbled. "It's like everyone _wants_ me to fail."

"It's nothing personal." Barbara started.

"Your current track record does not hold promise." Damian finished darkly.

"Like the Queen little D?" Dick teased, referring to the multimillion dollar English mare who, despite her pedigree, had met little success on the tracks.

Damian bristled.

"Low blow Dick." Barbara chided.

"Sorry" He flashed Damien a small smile. "Nerves."

Launching himself in the saddle, he stared towards the gates where the horses had been loaded for their training exercise: sweet-tempered Spoiler, Onyx who looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else and an ex-racehorse named Orpheus shifting nervously in his stall.

Dick took a deep breath as the others fell away, Barbara giving him an encouraging pat on his heel.

"Come on Red." Dick urged.

Red Hood's ears flickered.

After a brief hesitation, the chestnut strode forward and entered the gates.


End file.
